


Decency At It's Worst

by ButtBunny



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Camping, Established Relationship, I tried to make it full of love as possible, Multi, Not too angsty, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, a bit of drama coming later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 11:36:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7506784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButtBunny/pseuds/ButtBunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Dave finally get a break off from work to spend some time together. </p><p>Of course there's something else that has to butt it's head into it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decency At It's Worst

**Author's Note:**

> I tried my best with my resources to research what I thought could be the most accurate path this story could take. I'm sorry if you're actually from Washington and I got this all completely wrong just keep in mind I live across the country.
> 
> Other than that I hope you enjoy.

     The scent of lavender was way too much, It was weird. John always had some sort of generic brand shampoo. His hair felt softer as well, running my fingers through without a particularly bad tangle felt fantastical. His hair was always described as wild–was a false front. His lavender-scented head is on my shoulder as a forgettable movie plays. I could hardly see it anyway.

     I get it all the time, "Dave, why wear sunglasses while watching a movie at night?" My answer: I just like watching in complete and utter darkness, left completely in the dark about what's going on and the only thing to guide me is the noise. John says he doesn't understand that about me and likes properly watching movies, but here he is: completely conked out. The movie wasn't even that bad from what I could tell, but with John's snores and that smell invading my poor, unsuspecting nose, I gave up on listening to it. John was demanding my attention even as he slept. 

     John's nose twitched and his eyebrows furrowed as the movie apparently hit its climax. God, even his unconscious body reacts to missing movies. Amazing. I snickered silently, hiding my smile from absolutely no one. 

     Alright, enough is enough, right? Fuck this movie. I'm just glad we both scheduled our vacations at the same time. Nothing but packing to look forward to tomorrow, Lil' Eg-stein over here thought camping by the beach was a grand ole' time so that's what we're set out to do. Dude don't look at me like that I'm the one that tried to convince him that we should probably leave Olympia for an actual vacation to which he rebuttals with Madrona beach _is_ outside of Olympia. Sure, but not far away enough for my liking. I guess I can get decent photos if I take my Nikon with me. Don't wanna miss potentially great opportunities like John getting strawberry bits in his teeth and him quickly trying to pick them out once I tell him.

     I grab the remote and let the movie reserve the little dignity it had. Turning off the only source of light in the room leaves me absolutely fucking blind. More than before, but luckily I know this apartment like the inside of my sunglasses. I shrug John off my shoulder, taking my arm from behind his neck, also pushing aside his knees which were leaning on me. Finally standing up straight, I stretch, pop my back, and mightily yawn. I bend my knees moving over John at an exhausted pace, my hand coming up to shake John into the land of the living. He lets out a loud whine followed by sleepy grumbling; How cute. 

     "John? John, Joh–Babe, let's go to bed." Trying to be as considerate as possible, I hold John's hand to pull him up, another hand resting on his shoulder to steady him slash to guide him to the bed. John's face gets this really spiteful look from waking up which just makes me laugh. The scowl is immense now as John snatched his hand back and waddles back to our room. No need to take it to heart, Considering I've been the man to put him to bed for 6 years now. 

      John grumbles all the way to the bedroom door, I follow along in case he trips over himself or decides the floor is a good place to rest his eyes for a bit. He only shuts up when he face plants into our fluffy bed that, frankly is in need of a good wash. I mentally make a promise to myself that once we come back from camping we'll clean–well, I'll clean the apartment.

      Laying next to him is the best part of nights like this, it's like his body remembers that I'm not just some asshole who rouse him from his beauty sleep, but instead I'm the asshole that he loves who just happened to wake him up. Purposely. John is the closest thing to an octopus that I'll ever sleep with. His arm goes around my neck, his leg embeds itself between mine, and I can feel as he rubs his nose into my neck. I can't help the exhale out of my nose in amusement.

      Now that he's comfortable, I can now attempt some sort of sleeping position. I put my arm behind his head and lay flat on my back, our legs now loosely intertwined with each other but that doesn't mean I'm free from his cold-ass feet pressing into my thighs. I could be smiling at that but honestly, I don't know anymore. It's so frequently nowadays, I guess that means I'm happy. I try to run my fingers through my curly hair only to smudge the hell out of my shades. Fuck, I forgot I had them on. Gotta set those on the bedside table. _Now_ I'm finally ready to crash. My eyes close and my body's ready to just melt into the warmth. John's snoring is super loud, I've gotten used to it and at least he doesn't grind his teeth like Someone I used to know. Goodnight, me.

      During the night John switched to a more air restricting position and I woke up choking at 3 am. Thanks, supposed love of my life. He apologized; I forgave and forgot. However, I did push him off me for fear that I might not wake up the next time. John, of course, understood with a bit of an attitude. By that I mean he pushed my face away when I asked for a goodnight kiss, laughed, and kissed me anyway. We held hands, our legs not bothering to move.

      Next thing I know, I feel John's hand smack into my face in a crude attempt to snooze the alarm which just happens to be on my nightstand. I let out a bit of a startled laugh, waking John up completely. 

      "Ah! Sorry, Dave.." He whispers into my neck, "Could've sworn I was right next to it." I didn't bother replying, a chuckle still on my lips. I sit up and turn off the alarm myself, looks like I'm not going back to sleeping anyway. One look at those big red LED numbers tells me that it's 7:30 am. I lift my gaze to our blinds, following the light blue morning streaks falling onto our sheets and John's face. Which he covered with an arm. He hates packing because he knows just as well as I do that he never knows what to pack or how much and gets frustrated and I end up doing it for both of us while he storms off to cook us a nice breakfast.

      "Can I skip the usual tantrum and just make you your favorite pancakes?" his arm slips from his face and the light shines into his eyes, the appear clear blue. My fingers are itching for my camera but I settle for leaning over and pressing a kiss to his lips. He smiles when we part, waiting for an answer. "Of course." I mumble, but just before he gets up to whip up something in the kitchen I make sure to interject, "Don't forget the blueberries this time." John laughs heartily and shoves my face away, not harshly, but still: Ow.

     Obviously, I'm not gonna let him get away with that federal offense and nudge him off the bed only to watch the slowest fall in the universe coupled with the dullest scream. A solid minute of him laying on the floor and monotonically yelling, he's the best actor, it is him. He gets up after a solid minute, I look back at the window but I hear the drawer opening and closing then shuffling over to the hallway headed to the bathroom where he's probably gonna brush his teeth before frying up some pancakes. 

     I hear the shower turn on, so maybe I was wrong. John is one of those people to multitask. I do see his toothbrush in there all the time. Time to get up, I can't sit here and listen to what John's doing all day long. I slip off my sweatpants and stand with only my underwear on me. They're tighty whities if you gotta know. They're just comfortable, man.

     I pull out the two camping bags from under our bed, the ones you've seen in every cartoon. Those obnoxiously large ones are the same ones John _insisted_ of wasting our hard earned American money on. Amazing. I'm only happy I don't have to drag anything, my camera has a nice sturdy strap and these bags, of course, have those backpack straps and... waist strap. To not fall back I guess.

     That's enough detail on something that will probably only be mentioned once or twice in the future. I hear the shower shutting off and I guess I just wasted 30 minutes doing absolutely nothing but standing here, in my underwear and mentally describing a bag that we bought last week only for this 3-day "trip". God, here I go again. 

     I drag my hand down my tired face. Focus, Strider. I'm supposed to be packing for two. So, alright everything essential: Toiletries, clothes, underwear, eyewear, and camping gear. Y'know, the tent, the sleeping bag for two and extra blankets because we're camping near a damn body of water. Clothes and junk in my bag camping stuff in Johns'. That way no one's bag is running out of room. Alright good. That's over with. 

     We'll just wear the flip flops this time around...Uh, maybe not such a great idea actually since we have to do a bit of hiking to get to where we want to set up. We'll wear flip flops on the beach I'll just keep them in a plastic bag, let's see if they fit. Well, maybe when if I push out the air some more. Alright, Cool. I should go and shower.

     Stepping out of the bedroom with my sweatpants in hand I get the beautiful smell of blueberry and cinnamon pancakes wafting towards my nose. When did John get clothes? Turning my head towards the little opening of the kitchen I see him Standing there in underwear that I guess he grabbed it from his drawer when I looked away. 

     "John! You're gonna burn yourself if you don't wear something more than briefs." I slightly cup a hand next to my mouth, doing nothing to change the volume that I'm speaking. Yet he hears me anyway over the popping oil on the pan. 

     "It's alright, I didn't put much in. Just take a shower your breath smelled gross this morning." Rude. That one was almost a threat to my beloved ego. However, you don't grow up cool and mentally ill by not being in denial. Off to the bathroom I go, not without flashing a loving middle finger to him. By the snort and laughter I hear, he saw it. 

     Walking into the bathroom I notice John left his towel on the shower rack again, fuck, I keep telling him there are perfectly good hangers behind the door. Whatever, I wouldn't have made it this long if I didn't look past the stupid shit. I take my beige towel and put it on the rack to the farthest side so I can get to it later and not make the bathroom a wet mess. The pants are thrown into the hamper opposite to the sink, my underwear follows it in. I step inside the stand-in shower, me and John never really liked a bath of our own but in hotels, I suppose it was nice. 

     Looking at the shower caddy I get my answer to why John smelled like lavender. I guess Rose sent him a new shampoo and conditioner combo. Why? Beat's me. I just use the normal generic brand bullshit that makes my coarse, frizzy hair manageable. It smells rad anyway. After that I move onto the rest of the body, there's nothing interesting here really. I turn off the shower and dry off from within it, drying my feet on the little rug we keep in front of the shower. I put my towel on the hanger and walk back to our bedroom only dampened a bit. I shrug on a loose t-shirt, underwear, some comfortable track pants, socks and I'm ready to go eat. I make a stop in the bathroom to put a bit of coconut oil in my hair, makes it look and feel nicer.

     I see John at our sad, worn little dining table. Plates are set out to look like a classy diner and exactly 3 pancakes on each, I take my seat then see him getting syrup from the kitchen through the archway. He walks back in, still in his underwear might I add, and sets the syrup between us. 

     "You always put on a bit too much." He runs his fingers through my hair doing nothing but making his own fingers greasy, at least I washed mine after. He goes and puts the "excess" into his own straight, thin hair. He always uses the same excuse too. He smiles the big ole' wide smile like he knows I know. I give him a small smile back because I don't care that much. We both dig into the pancakes–they're a bit burnt, but I like them better that way.

**Author's Note:**

> Stay tuned! More chapters are to come!


End file.
